As the Saying Goes, Perception is Reality
by seghen
Summary: How long have you been in love with her?" Shane asked. Henry's eyes automatically traveled to Trish, "For as long as I can remember," he said. Shane followed his gaze and frowned, shaking his head. "No, not her. Abby."


**Wow I am completely obsessed with Harper's Island. Hope you guys enjoy, sorry if there are inaccuracies with the time placement, if they never had the opportunity to talk with the time given but I guess that's just the fiction of the fanfiction ;-)**

Every time Henry looked over at Shane he seemed to be either downing a shot of expensive liquor or picking a fight, but from the look on his face and the booze in his hand it was clear that he wasn't satisfied with limiting himself anymore. While with most people it was one or the other, Shane was an oddity. Hell, give him a stick of gum to chew and he would do all three at once.

He glared pointedly in Henry's direction, slouched on a bar-stool and scowling. While Henry always seemed to be smiling Shane was never capable of summoning up a pleasant expression, but that was all in the before. Before so many of their friends were dead and dismembered, before a wedding party became the hunting ground for a massacre.

Henry stepped toward him obligingly, wondering what he wanted this time. Shane was an added annoyance, something he hadn't counted on. Even more than that, someone he had completely underestimated the tenacity of. He had expected Sully and Danny to be a force to reckon with, and a part of him was glad that they were. An added bonus, a challenge for his dad. And Jimmy could have been dead, _should _have been dead. Instead he lay with mild burns, unconscious but in no real danger.

He saw the way Abby looked at him, how she flung herself toward the explosion when every God-given feeling of self-preservation must have been screaming, telling her to run in the opposite direction like the others. But she didn't, he had needed to hold her back to prevent her from going after Jimmy. And that was a problem.

He was glad that it was Nikki who was nursing his wounds instead of her, it was the only upside to her departure. He didn't like what his father was doing, trying to damage her further, maybe hoping that if she cracked in two Henry wouldn't want to pick up the pieces.

In the very least he was grateful for the change in mood, he didn't need to play the part of excited groom with such gusto anymore. It simply wouldn't have been appropriate. The fear and tension in the air was palpable, everybody was on tenterhooks and no one was sure who to trust anymore. Henry didn't like the conspiratorial whispers that had been directed towards Abby, even if it was all according to plan. It worked in his favor, the distrust and confusion stopped anyone from looking too closely at him.

He had known it would happen when JD took those pages, he had realized what would come and how perfectly it would work out to deflect suspicion from him, but he didn't like it being Abby. He couldn't hide the surge of protective anger he felt at the censorship she was accosted with by those she had counted as friends.

He had felt Trish's eyes on him after his strong reaction, but his friends, per usual, were clueless. They were accustomed to the strength of his and Abby's friendship, it had been that way for as long as they could remember. But not his fiance, she was growing increasingly uneasy with how quick Henry was to jump to her aid. She liked her well enough and Trish's confidence in her own self-worth made it harder for her to admit to herself that Abby was a threat, but subconsciously she recognized the fact that something was wrong.

But Abby was gone now, she had left the Cannery with a rifle in her unsteady hands and her head held high, she had gone to meet with her father, the alleged murderer. He didn't like the fact that she was going to see more than she ought to, the mere idea of causing her that much pain made him recoil, even though he knew it was necessary.

That was the distinction between him and John Wakefield, he didn't revel in causing the one he loved pain and suffering. It was a means to an end, but not a cause for celebration. He thought of the way her body had felt against his after JD, how she was trying to console a killer. He hadn't needed to play the part then, he took no enjoyment in ending his brother's life. _A means to an end_, it was the only rationalization he could summon that made any sort of sense.

But he was lost to sense and reason, driven by the very impulses he used to ignore. Trish was with Shea and Madison on the far side of the room, he needn't worry about her for the moment, though he made it a point to lock eyes with her and incline his head. It was habit now, executed for the purpose of making her feel safe and watched over. Loved. She thought she was loved, and that more than anything gave him a pang of regret. It wasn't strong and it certainly wasn't core shaking, it was the emotional equivalent of wearing flip flops in a torrential downpour when you could have grabbed rain boots, but he felt it nonetheless.

He knew how it was to think you were loved, only to be proved so horribly wrong. In the very least she wouldn't have to live with that knowledge as he had, and that was something.

Shane's eyes wandered to Nikki tending Jimmy and for a moment Henry thought that he could escape hearing whatever it was the impulsive local wanted to tell him. But he wasn't quite so lucky.

Henry sat on the stool beside him, having gotten into character on the brief stroll over. He was immersed in Henry Dunn, needed to be in order to accomplish what was necessary. Trish couldn't readily agree to marry an insincere and ambivalent man, she would see through that. He wasn't allowed the luxury of half-assing the performance of a lifetime.

_All the world's a stage..._

It wasn't hard anymore, he had readily transformed into this alter ego, this weak and diluted shadow of his true form. It was true irony that in order to transcend and fully become Henry Wakefield he first needed to convince all who were close to him that he was Henry Dunn. Cheerful, enthusiastic, loving, boy-from-the-wrong-side-of-the-docks Henry Dunn. Made to love Trish Wellington and passively put up with the quirks of his friends and relations with a charming shrug and aw-shucks demeanor. And they had all bought it, hook line and sinker.

Any remorse he might have felt in orchestrating their demises was offset by the fact that none of them saw through him.

"Want a drink?" Shane asked, and Henry carefully allowed his surprise to show. Everything was measured now, he was an expert actor and he only revealed what he wanted people to see...with one blaring exception.

Henry nodded agreeably, jumping slightly when Shane brusquely slid a bottle of scotch across the bar's surface. "Don't need it anymore," he said, inclining his head in Jimmy's direction. He didn't seem to be bothered by the overpowering scent of spilled alcohol and soap, so Henry paid it no never mind.

Henry smiled. "Yeah, thank God, right?" He didn't enjoy killing as a sport, while insanity was arguably an inherited trait the blood lust was weaker in the second generation. He was doing this out of necessity, because in order for the world to be as it should be these events needed to transpire. Nevertheless, Henry would rejoice in killing Jimmy, when the time came. Of that he was certain.

Shane nodded solemnly in agreement and moments passed by in silence. Henry was beginning to wonder if he had somehow misread his intentions when Shane finally spoke.

"How long have you been in love with her?" he asked.

Henry's eyes automatically traveled to Trish and his usual, instinctive smile followed. "For as long as I can remember," Henry said.

Shane followed his gaze and frowned, shaking his head. "No, not her. Abby."

Henry nearly got whiplash as he turned his head in amazement. Shane looked calm, well, as calm as he ever looked. But there was no mistaking what he had said, the words still rang in his ears clear as day. Trish had always had some slight and unstated insecurities concerning the nature of Abby and Henry's friendship, but he was able to formulate a faultless facade to remove any doubt. It had been easier to do when he was away from Abby, and he was painfully aware of the fact that some vestiges of his regard still remained. This supposed weakness had vexed his father to no end.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said with a coldness that did not belong to Henry Dunn. He was unnerved and had gone out of character. He tried to rectify this mistake by knitting his eyebrows together and trying to pass his hostile astonishment off as confusion.

Shane was not a diligent studier of the human condition and barely bothered to take in Henry's well-practiced expression of bewilderment. "Oh, please. Like you don't know what I'm talking about," he said, taking his fishing knife out of the sheath on his hip. He made it look so careless and habitual, but Henry felt distinctly threatened.

Henry shook his head, falsified sincerity etched in every feature. "No, I don't. Kindly enlighten me." That was good, standoffish with a slight scoff thrown in the mix. It certainly was a well blended combination of mannerisms.

"Ha, you need proof?" he asked, barely sparing him a glance as he wiped the blade of his knife on his jacket pocket.

Henry forced a chuckle, wondering what, if anything, gave him away. Was this just the drunken ramblings of a hothead or did he actually believe it? "Smells like 80 proof from over here."

Shane looked up and locked eyes with Henry, and there was no wavering in his expression. "See this?" he asked, pointing to the burgeoning contusions on his face. "This is what she does."

Henry shook his head. "No, that is what I did when you locked two of my friends outside with a psychopath." Little did he know that they were all locked inside with one.

Shane chuckled humorlessly, sheathing his blade and leaning back on the stool. Henry found himself hoping that he would fall. "The way you _threw _yourself at me?" he asked with a biting acerbic tone. "How Abby's always a no-fly-zone? We find out the chick's mom was knocked up by a serial killer and you jump down anyone's throat who dares to question her allegiances? You're as soft as they come but when she gets involved you act like a pit bull."

Henry leaned forward, successfully concealing his surprise at the depth of the lush's observation. "Hey, she's in danger out there!"

He shrugged and waved his arm impatiently. "We're in danger in here!" he said, his voice raising an octave and Trish and Nikki looked over in confusion. Henry offered a conciliatory smile and inclined his head toward Shane, and they both turned away. But he felt Trish's eyes suspiciously flicker back toward them a moment later.

"Keep your voice down," Henry said coldly, an unmistakable level of danger coloring his tone.

Shane scoffed, taking another long sip from his fresh-from-the-tap beer. With Jimmy's 'happy' return he had switched back to his drink of choice. "Why, afraid your girl's gonna finally catch on? I know those Wellingtons aren't the brightest bunch, what with the hot stepmom and creepy son-in-law gettin' it on right in front of them, but I at least thought the princess would pick up on it."

Henry shot him a scathing look and downed a mouthful of scotch without a wince. He felt the beginnings of panic work its way through his system, but as usual he maintained his poker face. He was careful to look scornful and disbelieving, but he feared that it looked artificial. "You should lay off the booze, man, you're not making any sense."

Shane waved his hand dismissively, taking a deliberate drink from the mug in his hand. "What the hell is up with that girl, anyway? Jimmy, you...I mean I guess she's decent looking enough but why sniff after hamburger when you've got steak that wants to marry you?" he asked, eyes fixed ahead so that he completely missed Henry's indisputable moment of bristling.

"She's my friend," he said sternly, resisting the near overwhelming temptation to up and leave but there was no guarantee that Shane wouldn't feel compelled to share his theory with anyone who was willing to listen.

"Bull shit. You'd never catch me making those pathetic moon eyes at Jimmy," he snapped scathingly.

Henry rolled his eyes deliberately, casting a not-so-surreptitious glance toward the door. "Yeah, who you locked out with a murderer on the loose." That was what enraged him most of all, leaving them out of their safe house with no regard for either of their safety, though Henry didn't give half a damn about Jimmy's well being. The fact of the matter was that he didn't trust his father to spare Abby despite their agreement. He was perceptive, he sensed Henry's hesitancy no matter how hard he tried to conceal it and it angered his father to no end.

It was easy to draw a parallel to his love for Sarah and Henry's for Abby, both obsessive, both unrelenting no matter the time nor distance that separated them.

Wakefield knew...or at least thought that he knew, that Abby would never and could never love him. _Like mother, like daughter_. And he knew with equal certainty that Henry would never stop loving her for as long as he lived...or at least as long as _she _did.

Ridding the world of Abby Mills meant destroying Henry's strongest tie to his former life, exorcising his son of his final demon. He couldn't be free while she still had this hold over him, albeit an unintentional one. The only way to sever such a connection was death...and Wakefield would know.

"Hey, Jimmy made his choice. See where it got him? Blown up." Of course Abby had nothing directly to do with that unfortunate turn of events, merely being in close proximity to her seemed cause enough to cause someone bodily harm.

Henry's eyes flickered instinctively back toward the door, as though she would pop through it at any moment. "You don't know what you're talking about," he said. But even to him it sounded weak.

Shane snorted into his bottle and shook his head. "I think you've got that one backwards."

No one would pay much attention to the violently unstable local who had mere days before tortured and nearly killed JD in order to gain information, forced his way into the wedding party's refuge with a gun in his hand and spent most of the tense days being belligerent, but no matter how likely Henry's supposed friends might have taken him, his words still had an undeniable ring of truth to them.

He only hoped that the nuisance wouldn't live long enough to share his theory.

"Henry!" Trish cried from across the room. Henry came to his feet and left Shane behind, carefully choreographing his movements to show fear and worry concerning the situation at hand and a total and complete lack of interest in his observations. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Shane didn't seem to care either way.

"What is it?" he asked and his fiance flung herself at him, hands pressed to his shoulders urgently. He wrapped his arms around her comfortingly but, per usual, he yearned to be holding someone else.

"Madison--she said it's not the Sheriff. Abby's dad didn't take her! She's out there with some psycho." It wasn't hard for him to feign surprise, he was long since accustomed to it, especially seeing as he had counted on such a revelation to surface at one time or another.

As far as Henry was considered, it couldn't have come at a better time.

He didn't need to fake his intensity, however, at the thought of bodily harm coming to Abby. He was mildly surprised when Danny armed himself wordlessly as the news sunk in and Henry followed suit. He kissed Trish goodbye with a measured edge of desperation, not knowing when or if he would see her again. She responded the same, perhaps even more so. He didn't look forward to killing her, but there was no point regretting what was inevitable.

The pair moved toward the door, weapons in hand, and Trish needlessly called out, "Be careful." Henry nodded curtly, knowing that it wasn't them who had cause to fear.

All the while Shane remained rooted to his stool, looking stunned and slack jawed from this little revelation, but he made no attempt to rush to their aid.

Henry knew that by the time they rescued Abby from the grips of danger, it would be too late for the crew at the Cannery. He wondered which ones of them he would see again, and found himself darkly hoping that Shane Pierce would be among the fallen.

**Tell me what you think! I liked the idea but I'm not sure if I care for the execution. I'm also thinking of a story that slightly alters the events in the last episode so that Henry gets away with it but he and Abby go back to the mainland with her none the wiser. What'd you guys think?**


End file.
